


Don't Feed Me (I Will Come Back)

by KatieComma



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is a creeper, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Underage, Past Non-Consensual Voyuerism, Smut, Stiles is not underage, Very brief Stiles/Female OC, Very emotional smut, Voyeurism, derek has emotions, mostly just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23570596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: Derek has spent all this time listening to something he can't ever have.But maybe he can have it.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 22
Kudos: 247





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> See end notes for warnings related to the underage element and the non-con voyuerism
> 
> Thank you Orianess for a quick read through!!! You're a gem!!!
> 
> Title is from the song "It Will Come Back" by Hozier

Derek knows he’s twisted. There’s something wrong inside him for so many reasons and in so many ways. He’s not sure when it started, probably when his family died, but he can’t remember feeling right, it’s been so long.

Part of his twisted soul has narrowed its gaze on Stiles Stilinski, and he cannot for the life of him figure out why. The skinny, awkward, mouthy kid… No, not a kid anymore, not for a while now. The skinny, awkward, mouthy, well-filled out, lithe and wiry man that is Stiles Stilinski.

It started when they first met. The first time Derek had ever set eyes on Stiles, scented him, he’d felt the pull. And he’d wanted. But Stiles was 16 when they met, and the son of the Sheriff, and Derek wasn’t an idiot.

And yet, the pull on Derek was irresistible. He would run from it, into the woods. He would run as far as he could, but like the remembered taste of something delectable, as soon as he forced himself to stop thinking about it the craving would return.

So Derek spent far too many nights sitting outside Stiles’ window and listening. It became very convenient when Stiles was so intertwined in the pack and their problems that he sometimes needed Derek’s help. But that wasn’t Derek’s motivation, it was much dirtier and twisted than that.

Derek would sit outside Stiles’ window and breathe in his scent and listen to him, and wait. And, like every good well-adjusted teenage boy, Stiles would masturbate. And Derek would sit with his back to the wall of the house and press against it, holding in the growls and whimpers that he wanted to make to echo Stiles’ own noises. His claws would extend and he would let them puncture the siding of the house while he held himself there silently, just listening.

Oh the things Derek dreamed about, fantasized about, wanted to do to that boy. Not just because he was a boy. Derek had never wanted someone young before, his tastes had always strayed to older women and men. But the moment he’d gotten Stiles’ scent on his tongue, he couldn’t rid himself of it. He wanted to be surrounded by it, to know it intimately, to claim it. But Stiles was young, so Derek indulged himself the only way he knew how, the only way to help keep himself under control. He breathed in the scent of sex and satisfaction that rolled out of Stiles’ room like fog, and he held it inside himself to keep, hoping it would somehow satisfy the wolfish need enough to keep him from Stiles.

And it had worked. Nights and nights he sat outside Stiles’ window and listened. 

Listened to Stiles watching porn and being quiet while his dad was home. But Derek still heard the creaking of the mattress and the bitten off moans. He often wondered what it looked like, did Stiles muffle himself in a pillow, or bite his lip to keep quiet?

The other nights were his favourite, when the Sheriff was out for the night and Stiles was alone in the house. Able to let loose and moan and groan and writhe around the bed making it creak under him. Those nights were Derek’s favourites, but also the hardest. Because he wanted to crawl through the window and lose himself in Stiles, make the kid feel so good; wrap his lips around body parts and suck and lick and draw other sounds from him.

Instead Derek used the noises he heard to fuel his fantasies, and he left the siding a mess from his claws as he held himself in place.

The wolf wanted. And so did Derek.

The years passed and Derek spent too many nights outside Stiles’ window. Too many nights listening. He’d even been almost caught a few times, by the Sheriff, or Scott trying to sneak in Stiles’ window. But Derek was fast, and he always escaped in time.

And now Stiles is gone: Stanford. And Derek still wants, but has no outlet. There is no window. Well, the window is still there, and it still smells like Stiles. But the smell is stale and old.

The want was easy to subdue at first. He would run through the woods, he would come back to the house and smell the stale smell, and he would fantasize. And it held the want at bay.

But now, it’s been too long, and Derek’s want has dragged him several hours down the interstate in his car to Stanford. He has no good reason to visit, even after thinking about it the whole drive, but his brain was focused on Stiles; being near Stiles is the only thing that matters.

It’s mid afternoon when he gets to the dorm. 

He knows where Stiles lives, not because he’s a stalker, but because he knows where the entire pack is. Everyone split up for school, but they agreed to keep tabs on each other. So everyone knows where everyone is. It’s not strange.

The scent of Stiles is in the hallway leading up to his room, and only gets more intense the closer Derek gets. The scent hasn’t changed. It’s the same and Derek feels like an addict as he breathes deep and lets Stiles settle on his tongue. He wants. He want. He wants!

Derek stops walking and swallows heavily. This will end badly if he loses control, so he reigns himself in, closes his eyes for a moment, and then walks to the door. He lifts his hand to knock, and only then starts listening. He was too distracted by his excitement and Stiles’ scent to hear it among all the other noises in the midday dorm.

Stiles is moaning. And here Derek is again; listening and waiting and being unseen.

And then something new happens, and another voice joins Stiles’. A girl’s voice. And Derek’s soul feels torn in two: one half wants to curl into a ball and never uncurl again, and the other half wants to rip the door from its hinges and roar at the girl until she leaves and never returns.

The sounds sneak out into the hallway, only detectable to Derek’s sensitive wolf ears.

“Yeah baby,” the girl groans. “Come on! Yes. Right there!”

Stiles’ voice is muffled when he replies.

Somehow Derek cannot step away, his body heats up, his nerve endings tingling with arousal. So, instead of walking away, he sits down against the wall across from the room and waits. His eyes trained on the door, and the sock hanging loosely from the doorknob, he listens.

“Oh, yeah! Come on!” The girl’s trying to keep her voice quiet, but the soprano pitch of her moans and whines carries. “Right there! Yes! Yes!”

He smells the flood of the girl’s orgasm like acrid smoke in the air, and Derek clenches his teeth.

The creaking of the bed follows, and now Stiles’ voice isn’t muffled. His groans are short lived and he doesn’t speak during the sex.

The girl’s voice is back, but less enthusiastic now, encouraging but no longer full of sharp arousal.

Derek wants to tell her to shut up. He wants to listen to Stiles’ little breathy moans and the way he gasps with each slap of skin. Derek wants to imagine it’s his body underneath Stiles. Wants to imagine so many things. Just wants.

Derek’s body thrums with excitement and arousal.

It’s over quickly, and there’s no cuddling or soft kisses. He hears the wet sound of the filled condom hitting the bottom of a plastic garbage can, and the sound of clothing being pulled on. It’s the middle of the day; they both probably have places to be.

“I’ll call you?” Stiles asks. It sounds obligatory.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, “I’m only staying with Sierra for the weekend and then I’ll be gone. But thanks for the good time.”

“Ok, if you’re-” before Stiles can finish the door opens and the girl steps into the hall. She doesn’t look twice at Derek. It’s a dorm after all. She’s dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, her tangled hair tied up in a loose bun, generous hips and thighs swaying when she walks.

The smell of sex floods into the hall, and Derek tries to focus on Stiles’ scent, but it’s so tangled up in the girl’s that he can’t separate them.

The door is swinging slowly closed on its own when Stiles grabs it and opens it wide, pulling the sock off the door handle. He’s about to retreat back inside when he looks up.

“Derek?” He asks. “What… why are you sitting out here?”

Derek tries not to growl, or flash his eyes, or bare any teeth when he speaks. “You were busy.” He stands up and meets Stiles’ eye.

Stiles’ face turns bright red, and Derek watches the colour sneak down the collar of his shirt. He wants to see the rest of Stiles skin, find out how far his blush goes.

“How long were you out here?” Stiles asks. And it’s not disgust, like Derek expected, but curiosity.

“Long enough,” Derek says, “fifteen minutes or so.”

Stiles blush deepens. “Sorry you had to…” He waves at his room.

Derek shrugs. “I didn’t mean to show up without… calling or anything.” And he realizes that he should have done, but he’d jumped in his car and started driving without a thought. And then, when he wasn’t able to think of a good reason to visit Stiles, he hadn’t wanted to call.

“I mean, but you’re here,” Stiles says. “Does that mean… Is everyone ok? What’s going on?”

The correct answer is: I just wanted to see you. But Derek fumbles because he doesn’t want to say that. Can’t admit it because he’s afraid, sure that it’s just him. After all, he just basically walked in on Stiles having sex with a woman.

“Derek?” Stiles asks, moving to be in view, because Derek was literally just staring at the wall like a zombie. “Are you ok? Here, come in for a minute.”

Stiles pushes the door open again and steps inside. Derek follows him. He eyes the warm mattress like it’s another alpha and he’s ready to fight.

“Oh,” Stiles looks at the bed, then glances to his roommates bed, which is also disheveled. “I guess… yeah… werewolf nose. It probably smells pretty awful in here. I’m sorry.”

Derek opens the window wide and sits in the desk chair next to it. The breeze sweeps in and swirls all the smells around until they’re muddled and confused. It’s better than the pungent scent of that girl mixed with Stiles.

“Here,” Stiles goes to the door and props it open a little so the breeze can sweep right through the room and carry away the newest smells. “Better?”

Derek nods.

Stiles sits on the bed. “You look a little pale,” Stiles says, “are you ok?”

“Fine,” Derek says.

“So… were you, in the area or something? Usually if it’s a life or death kind of thing you bust in and glare bloody murder until I follow you into trouble.”

Derek’s brain is trying to figure out where to go, what to say.

Stiles just keeps talking. “Any particular reason you decided to sit outside my door and listen in, like a creep?” He’s smiling despite the accusation. “I mean… I guess: once a creeper always a creeper right?”

“What?” Derek asks, curiosity suddenly peaked.

“I mean… you used to sit outside my room in Beacon Hills and listen,” Stiles says, “so I guess some things never change.” His blush was receding, but now it returns full force and he looks away.

“What… are you talking about?” Derek tries to play it off, but doesn’t move his eyes away from Stiles. He needs all his skills now: scent, hearing, visual cues, all of these things will help him read the man in front of him.

“Scott told me once,” Stiles says. “One night he climbed in my window; just about caught me right in the middle of… well… you know… and he asked me why you’d been there. And I told him you hadn’t. He said he’d smelled you outside. And that it was recent.” He pauses and meets Derek’s eye, and doesn’t look away. “Dad was mad about the claw marks, not that he knew what they were. But he didn’t have the money to get the siding replaced. He thought it was woodpeckers or something.”

Derek can’t fight it anymore. He could make a million excuses, or blame someone else, but he doesn’t want to. It’s too hard. He’s suddenly decided that if he gets the rejection he’s been expecting all these years, that he’ll be able to magically move on somehow. Knowing he actually can’t have what he wants will give him closure.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Derek asks.

Stiles smiles. “I think I get it,” he says. “And…”

They’re perched on the edge of something. Derek’s not sure what will happen if they go over that edge.

“And?” Derek asks.

Stiles stands up and goes to the door. The room is pleasantly aired out with the comforting smell of fall, so when Stiles’ closes the door, it doesn’t lock anything unwanted in with them. And now Stiles’ scent is just his own, it’s not mashed together with someone else.

He stands at the door with his back to Derek, forehead leaned against the wood.

“I liked it,” Stiles says softly.

Derek wants to demand that he speak up, because he thinks it’s probably one of the greatest things he’s ever heard. He’s standing suddenly, and doesn’t remember actually moving, but his body is tense with excitement and nervousness. He doesn’t say anything. He’s not the only one coming to terms with things, dealing with emotions and wants and needs. 

Stiles’ arousal is spiked, and not because he just had sex, it’s new and growing, the room flooding with it. It’s a familiar smell to Derek and he opens his mouth to let it in, breathing it deep like a junkie getting a fix. He gets hard almost immediately at that smell. He’d been halfway there already from listening to Stiles and the girl, but now he’s completely lost to it.

“I liked it a lot,” Stiles says, “but… I was young. Too young. I know that’s why you kept quiet.”

How has Derek missed it all this time? That Stiles knows him so well, can read him so well?

“You were,” Derek says.

Stiles pushes back from the door. Something has given him confidence and when he turns around there’s determination in his eyes. He walks right up to Derek, standing in his space. They’re almost exactly the same height. Stiles’ hair has grown a little long with neglect, and his jaw is dusted with stubble. He’s a man now.

“Derek, why are you here?” Stiles asks again, and it comes out almost like an accusation.

Derek lets his earlier unspoken answer trip off his tongue. “I just wanted to see you.”

Stiles moves closer still, his eyes jumping back and forth between Derek’s eyes and his mouth. “Wanted to _see_ me?” Stiles asks, his voice deep with excitement. “Or _hear_ me? Or _smell_ me?” He moves closer still and Derek thinks they’re going to kiss, but Stiles moves even further, their lips passing until they’re cheek to cheek. And then Stiles tilts his head to bare his neck to Derek.

They’re still not touching, but they’re so close it seems impossible.

“Yes,” Derek hisses out drawing air through his nostrils. Stiles is still sweaty from his activities and he smells amazing.

“Yes, what?” Stiles asks, his voice squeaking a little with nervousness.

“All of them,” Derek breathes against Stiles’ skin and goosebumps break out. “See you. Hear you. Smell you.” He adds another one to the end, but it’s a question. “Taste you?”

Stiles whimpers, and Derek thinks he might just lose his mind. But he waits, poised over Stiles like the big bad wolf. Derek draws another breath, and Stiles’ arousal has grown still. Derek wants to bury his face in Stiles’ hair and scent, and lick his neck, and taste his mouth.

“Please Derek,” Stiles says. He puts a hand to the back of Derek’s head, their first contact, and pulls him toward the pale arched neck.

Derek gives into that touch and licks a long line up Stiles’ neck, moaning with the salty overwhelming taste. All those years of smelling Stiles, he’d never imagined it would be so good.

He pushes Stiles into the wall and noses at his neck. He lets his control go and starts licking and tasting until he sloppily makes his way back to Stiles’ mouth. He’s about to lock their lips together, thrust his tongue inside when Stiles turns his head and barks out: “No!”

And here it is. Something in Stiles wants Derek, and yet he doesn’t. This is too much. Too fast. Derek doesn’t know what’s wrong, but something is wrong and it’s his fault. He jumps backward, turns around and runs his hands through his hair. “You’re right,” he says, “I’m sorry that was…”

“Fucking amazing,” Stiles cuts him off and grabs his shoulder hard to turn him back around.

Derek meets his eye and Stiles looks ashamed.

“I just…” He glances around the room. “I recently… sorta… had my mouth… in very… personal places… on someone else… and with your senses I really think you would hate that… I mean… the taste… that would be weird and probably horrible… so…”

Derek’s relief overcomes him like a tidal wave and drops him to his knees. He pushes Stiles’ shirt up and shoves his face into Stiles’ stomach, the hair there tickling at his face in the best way. He rubs his face against Stiles’ belly and whines. Tears leak from his eyes and he wonders when that emotion woke up in him? When was the last time he felt vulnerable, and grateful, and happy, and… it’s too much and more tears come to his eyes.

“Derek?” There’s so much concern in Stiles’ voice. It doesn’t help with the emotion. “Are you ok?” He puts his hands in Derek’s hair, combing roughly through it.

“Stiles,” Derek says into the skin before planting a kiss there.

“I’m right here,” Stiles says, “obviously… since you’re kissing and tickling me.” His words come out peppered with laughter.

Derek needs to be honest before he closes himself off again. He never wants that with Stiles. Not ever again. “I need you,” he says, “I need you Stiles. I’ve always needed you.”

“Me too big guy,” Stiles says affectionately, still running his fingers along Derek’s scalp. Hands fisted into Derek’s hair, he presses his face against his belly.

Derek’s mouth opens and and he breathes against the scent there before he laps at the source with a wide swipe of his tongue.

Derek’s hears the jingle of keys, but it could be anyone, for any room. Until a key slides into the lock on Stiles’ room. Derek jumps to his feet, but he can’t move away with Stiles’ hands still tangled up in his hair.

The door opens and a tall, wide, blonde guy walks in.

He rolls his eyes. “Dude, the sock is off the door,” he says to Stiles as he lets the door close. “And you said you’d be done in a half hour. I need some sleep. Plus, weren’t you with a girl earlier?”

Stiles swallows heavily. “Come on Neil, you can’t give me another half hour?” He asks.

“No can do,” Neil steps around them and falls heavily onto his bed, prying his shoes and socks from his feet.

Derek steps back, but Stiles won’t let go of his hair. “I should go…” he tries to step back again, but the hands and body attached follow and his back hits the other wall while Stiles’ attention is still on his roommate.

“Come on man, I gave you the whole night with that Jessica chick,” Stiles complains.

“Not a chance,” Neil says, “I have nowhere else to go and I need to sleep. I gave you the half hour you wanted.” He lays back in the bed and is almost immediately asleep.

Stiles lets his head fall forward onto Derek’s chest and lets out a little rumble of frustration. “Listen,” Stiles doesn’t even bother whispering, “if we’re going to do this. I want to do everything.” He looks up into Derek’s eyes, and his beautiful amber brown eyes are full of lust and want and a little insecurity. “I want to be able to kiss you,” he says. And his mouth is close to Derek’s face, and Stiles wasn’t wrong; he smells like someone else in the worst possible way. It makes Derek want to rip the room apart.

Derek nods.

“Ok, so-”

They’re interrupted by a snore from Neil.

Stiles sighs. “So maybe I’ll have a shower and stuff and we can meet up after?”

Derek nods, and then gives into his instincts and nuzzles into Stiles’ neck again. He lets himself think for a second that maybe they could be quiet enough, but then he almost laughs with the thought that he would _want_ them to be quiet.

“I could wait here for you,” Derek whispers into his ear.

Stiles chuckles. “I don’t think that would work,” he replies. “Me coming in here in my robe and getting changed…”

Derek groans softly into his ear.

“Exactly,” Stiles says. And then he does something that almost drives Derek completely insane. Stiles presses his face to Derek’s neck and inhales, rubbing his face against Derek’s skin.

“I should go,” Derek says through gritted teeth. “How long do you need?”

“Come back in an hour,” Stiles says.

Derek pushes off the wall, walking Stiles into the middle of the room, still twined together. Before he can think too much about it, Derek turns and walks out of the room without a look back. He’s waited years, he can wait an hour.

Derek waits on the steps of the dorm, brushing off looks and invites from girls (and a few guys) who walk by. The minutes seem to tick by like hours. But he waits.

Finally the door behind him opens and he smells Stiles’ body wash. It isn’t as good as a sweaty Stiles who just smells like himself, but Derek will take it over the smell of that girl.

Derek stands up and hops up the few steps to the door.

“Ok,” Stiles says, “so what’s the plan for- mmmmfh” he’s cut short by Derek’s mouth closing on his.

Derek pushes Stiles against the big heavy metal door. He avoids bringing their bodies together because then he won’t be able to control himself.

Stiles opens his mouth and tastes like toothpaste, and mouthwash and Stiles.

Derek slides his tongue inside, swirling it around and tasting every corner. Stiles returns the favour until someone coughs behind them.

Derek turns and wants to flash his eyes and growl.

“I just need to get inside,” the girls says meekly when Derek all but snarls at her.

“Of course,” Stiles says. “Sorry.” He pushes at Derek, who reluctantly moves, and they walk down the steps. Stiles grabs Derek’s shirt. “Do it again,” he demands, eyes all for Derek’s mouth.

Derek obeys immediately, arms wrapping around Stiles as he kisses him hard. Their tongues meet and trade back and forth and Stiles gives as good as he takes. Until he takes his tongue back and pushes Derek away.

“As much as I would love to stand here and make out with you for… well… ever… I feel like we should have a plan here. Do we have a plan?” Stiles asks.

Derek steps back. He hadn’t thought of that: a plan. He was so full of want that his only thought was to be near Stiles.

“Like what?” Derek asks. “You’re usually the guy with the ideas. What’s the plan college boy?” It’s not cruel, just a jab similar to the way they used to be, before Stiles left.

Stiles looks around and puts on his thinking face. Derek takes a minute to look him up and down. And holy shit he wore the red hoodie. Derek slips a hand under the hoodie, under the t-shirt to touch Stiles’ skin. Instincts are taking over and he wants to rip all the clothes from Stiles’ body in front of everyone. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even nuzzle in close like he wants. He waits for Stiles to make a decision.

“Is it too… blasé to just get a hotel?” Stiles asks with a raised eyebrow. “Like, is that too overdone?”

“Do you know one close?” Derek asks.

“Little bit excited to get a taste of the Stiles experience huh?” Stiles grins.

Derek growls. “Don’t say shit like that… I can’t…” He shoves his face into Stiles neck and whimpers. Now that the shower is fading, his personal scent is returning; it’s musky and masculine and full of arousal, and Derek tastes it on his tongue.

“Ok, ok,” Stiles says, sounding concerned. “Are you ok? Like, really? You’re not under some sex spell or something, right? Cause I feel like that’s definitely something that would happen to us. Or, it’s not like… mating season for werewolves or something like that?”

Derek’s need flags a little at Stiles’ commentary, and he pulls back and rolls his eyes.

Stiles grins. “There, under control for a few minutes anyway,” he says, “so long as you promise me it’s not a sex spell or something.”

Derek grumbles and starts to walk toward the Camaro. “It’s not a sex spell.”

Stiles Googles a hotel nearby, and gives Derek directions as he drives. It’s not a long drive, but enough that the silence between them crackles like electricity. Until Stiles breaks it because he’s allergic to silence.

“So now that it’s all out in the open, you gonna send my dad some money for the siding?” Stiles asks. “He still never replaced it.”

Derek barks a little laugh as he pulls into the hotel parking lot.

It takes way too long to get a room. The exchange of a credit card, the signing of documents.

But finally they open the door to a room that smells like no one, and nothing. It smells faintly like bleach and cleaner and a tiny hint of the maid’s perfume.

The moment the door closes, Stiles rips Derek’s leather jacket off and pushes him back against the nearest wall. “Do you know…” Stiles looks desperate and manic; his eyes are wide, his pupils taking over, and his cheeks are flush. “Do you have any idea Derek…”

Derek’s name sounds so good coming out of Stiles’ mouth, he’s always thought so. “What?” Derek breathes out, and it’s rough with excitement.

“Every time, after I found out,” Stiles says, “every single time, I imagined you were there.”

Derek groans and leans over to lick and nibble at Stiles’ throat while he talks. The words vibrate through the skin and Derek thinks he can taste the lust in them on his tongue.

“When I was home alone I would be louder,” Stiles says, “louder for you.” A groan punctuates his words as Derek sucks a mark into his neck. “I thought about you out there, and I made noises for you. And I imagined you were touching me… I thought about your mouth…”

“Hope I live up to the hype,” Derek says.

Stiles draws his beautiful lips across Derek’s cheeks to his mouth. And then he’s speaking words into Derek. “You will,” he says, “because it’s you. That’s all that matters.”

They kiss for a moment before Derek pushes Stiles’ shirt up over his head; it’s a shirt and a hoodie, and Derek doesn’t care, he pulls them off together.

“I need to taste you,” Derek says, grabbing Stiles’ waist and drawing him to the bed. His skin is warm and soft and Derek wants to know every single piece before he lets Stiles leave the room.

“I’m right here, you can taste me all you want,” Stiles says with a kiss.

Derek enjoys the meeting of their lips and tongues while he undoes Stiles’ pants and pushes them to the floor, along with his boxers. They’re loose and fall easily.

“No,” Derek breaks the kiss, “I need to taste you.” To emphasize what he means, he draws his fingers lightly over Stiles’ hard cock. It’s just a tease, nothing satisfying.

Stiles groans and grips Derek’s shoulders like he might fall over. He gasps into Derek’s neck.

Derek fights every instinct in him to just pin Stiles and have him. It will be more than that.

“Is that ok?” Derek asks.

Stiles pushes back and meets Derek’s eyes. “I trust you Derek,” he says softly.

“Lay down,” Derek says, pushing Stiles toward the bed.

“No,” Stiles says with a grin. “You got to unwrap your present, now it’s my turn.” He looks down between them and pops the button on Derek’s jeans. Stiles pulls the pants and underwear down, following them to the floor and urging Derek to step out of them. And then he looks up at Derek, still kneeling and kisses lightly; thigh to hip to stomach, pulling Derek’s t-shirt up and off as he goes. When he makes his way all the way up, their mouths meet again.

Derek feels desperate in a way he never has. Even the first few times he had sex this desperation wasn’t there. And now he needs like he never has before. He’s so hard he thinks he might explode.

“Ok,” Derek pants against Stiles’ cheek, “now lay down.”

“Alright, alright bossywolf,” Stiles grouses before he crawls slowly up onto the bed, ass in the air on display like a little tease, before he flops over onto his back.

Derek walks to the bed and kneels on the end, looking from Stiles’ calves, slowly up his hips, rib cage, shoulders that are wider than Derek remembers, ropy neck muscles and finally Stiles’ grinning face. His hands are tucked behind his head, and he looks so excited and sure and happy.

Derek crumples forward, hands bouncing on the mattress on either side of Stiles’ waist. Derek rubs his face against Stiles’ stomach, the same way he had in the dorm room. Stiles’ unclothed excitement, and his bare skin smell like pure Stiles, and Derek opens his mouth against the skin, and then he falters.

This isn’t right. It’s why he hasn’t done it for years and years; never made a move. It was never fear of rejection. It was fear of getting what he wanted, when he knew it was wrong. When he knows that it’s wrong.

“Derek?” Stiles asks, the smell of worry suddenly blooming in the air. “Der? Are you ok?” Hands softly make their way into Derek’s hair.

Derek opens his mouth to speak and a shuddering whine comes out instead of words, his throat closed up tight.

Stiles’ stomach muscles tighten, like he wants to sit up, but Derek’s face is still shoved tightly into his belly. Derek’s hands come up and find Stiles’ waist, holding there like he could keep the moment forever.

“Der, tell me what’s wrong,” Stiles demands, but there’s no command in it.

Derek chokes through his stupid emotions, clearing his throat. “I’m not... supposed to...”

And suddenly everything becomes clear to Derek. More than normal. Everything seems sharp like a knife: the situation, Stiles’ scent, the heat under his mouth, every moment leading up to it. Derek pushes back away from it, frightened by how much he feels. Not just the sensations around him, but the emotions that come along with it. He crawls back off the bed and steps away, turning around to hide the tears sneaking from his eyes.

“Derek, you’re kinda freaking me out here,” Stiles says. The mattress creaks the tiniest bit as Stiles crawls off and follows Derek across the room. “I thought we were on the same page. You do… you said… you wanted it. Wanted me.”

Suddenly Stiles is standing in front of him and pushes him hard in the chest. His tee is in his hand and he’s pulling it awkwardly over this head.

“You told me this wasn’t a sex spell!” Stiles accuses as he finally navigates his head through the collar of the shirt. “It is, isn’t it?” Without waiting for an answer he growls into the air and starts looking for his pants. “Of course it is! I can’t just have nice things, can I? I knew it was too good to be true. This better not be a fuck or die sex spell…” he starts muttering as he finds his pants on the floor.

Derek starts to laugh, he can’t help it, and it suddenly overwhelms him until he leans against the wall for support. And suddenly laughter turns into despair because it’s Derek that isn’t allowed to have nice things, and he knows it. He collapses to the floor, head in his hands.

“Derek?” Stiles voice is soft as he kneels down between Derek’s tented knees. “Are you ok dude? What’s going on? You have to talk to me.” He shouldn’t seem so sweet and naive and endearing wearing a shirt and no pants. And yet…

Derek wants too much. He reaches out and takes Stiles face into his hands, pulling him in for a kiss that’s soft and sweet and no indication of all the dirty raunchy porny things he wishes he was doing to Stiles at the moment.

“It’s not a sex spell,” Derek says the moment their mouths come apart. “And I do want you. I didn’t get in my car and drive three hours for nothing.”

Stiles chuckles a little at that, a soft puff of air against Derek’s mouth. “But?” He asks. “Is it the age thing? You still think I’m too young for you?”

Derek shakes his head. “I mean, yeah, the age thing was a problem… cause I’m not a total creep-“

“You sure about that?” Stiles asks, grinning his famous grin.

Derek smiles, but ignores the jab. “But you’re not too young anymore… you’re just… you’re…” Derek pushes Stiles back a little and traces his hands down the body in front of him. The soft, fragile body. “You’re perfect Stiles. I break things.”

“No, no, no you don’t,” Stiles reassures almost desperately as he grabs Derek’s shoulders like he’s trying to shake sense into him. “Stop that. I hate it when you’re like this. This isn’t you Derek. You’re an alpha. You can take and have whatever you want.”

Derek shakes his head at the thought. Yes, he’s an alpha, but he’s a man too. And he cares so much. “You’re… fragile Stiles. I could care about a wolf and not worry about them being used by my enemies. Tortured. Killed.”

Stiles starts laughing and sags to the floor, still holding onto Derek’s shoulders.

“What’s so funny about that?” Derek asks.

Stiles falls into Derek, still between his legs, and almost hits him in the balls, but somehow in that graceful, klutzy Stiles way just falls into Derek’s arms perfectly instead. Derek holds him loosely like he’s made of glass. “Phew. This is just the old fragile-Stiles routine all over again,” he says, looking up at Derek. “I know this song and dance. I know all the steps.”

“Stiles, I’m serious,” Derek says.

“So am I asshole,” Stiles says, but there’s mirth and not heat in it. “You think us having sex right now is going to up my danger level? News flash: my danger level has been on Red Alert since Scott became a werewolf.”

“It would be different if you were…”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Stiles interrupts before Derek can finish his thought. “Scott’s pretty much my brother, people know this and have been using me because of it for forever. I’m in your pack already, people have been using that against me since forever. Adding something good to this equation, doesn’t actually change what x equals Derek. X still equals: people have been coming after me since forever.”

Derek can feel his features curling and scrunching into his guilt face. The way his eyebrows turn down and somehow up at the same time, his eyes feel hot and prickly with tears.

“Plus, come on, anyone who’s in a room with us for five minutes can feel the sexual tension,” Stiles says, “cut it with knife. So everybody already knows that I’m head over heels for you, and have been for… well, forever. So they’re going to use it against us anyway. Why don’t we get to have the fun part with it?”

That startles a laugh out of Derek, one he hadn’t been expecting and it almost hurts his throat the way it barks out of him so suddenly. His arms close tightly around Stiles and he pulls him in.

And suddenly it seems strange that Derek is totally naked, but Stiles is wearing his shirt again.

Stiles laughs and pulls himself closer to Derek, their bodies tight together as their giggling trails off. Stiles’ mouth is near Derek’s ear, his breathing soft, his tongue licking across his lips, loud like thunder with Derek’s super-sensitive hearing.

Suddenly his arousal returns full force, the guilt burned away by it. He turns his head so he can look into Stiles’ eyes. Derek feels wrung out and flayed open, his heart on display. Stiles looks so serious suddenly, his nostrils flared a little, mouth a flat line, eyes full of emotion.

Derek’s fingers tighten in the back of Stiles’ t-shirt. “Why exactly are you wearing a shirt again?” Derek asks, trying for humour, but it comes out flat and serious.

Stiles’ perfect mouth doesn’t even flicker to a grin, he just answers the same way, deadly serious. “I was getting dressed because I thought it was a sex spell.” He pauses, looks down at Derek’s lips and looks up again. “I need to tell you something before we… get started again.” 

He meets Derek’s eyes, and Stiles’ heartbeat is steady so it’s not anything bad. Derek nods.

“I’m in love with you,” Stiles blurts out like it’s regrettable, “so if that’s like… a thing you can’t or don’t want to deal with between us I totally understand but I just thought-”

Derek silences him with a kiss, but it’s not passionate and hard. Derek presses in as soft and romantic as he can manage. A kiss, not for lovers, but for something more. And when the hell did he become such a romantic? Up to this point, his relationship with Stiles had consisted of listening to him jerk off, and then jerking off and thinking about him, and the friendly banter in-between with some shoving and some snarkiness. But this is something else entirely.

Stiles pulls back to breathe. “Well, that was something else,” he says with a smile, echoing Derek’s thoughts, “and not at all what I was expecting.”

“I love you too,” Derek says before he can think too hard about it. He doesn’t doubt it, knows it’s true. It’s why there’s been no one else. He’s been making excuses about people’s safety and relationships complicating everything. But really he just knew he didn’t want anyone else. If he couldn’t have Stiles, he didn’t want anyone.

Stiles’ jaw drops. “Here,” he says quietly. He awkwardly shuffles around a bit until he’s straddling Derek’s thighs. And then their bodies fit together perfectly.

Pleasure cascades through Derek’s high-strung body. His eyes roll up in his head and he lets his head fall back against the wall with a thunk. Stiles’ mouth is there, at his ear, breath hot.

“Too much…” Stiles gasps as he thrusts against Derek’s body. “Anticipation… it’s gonna… be quick.”

Derek growls and opens his eyes again. “This time,” he adds.

Stiles groans and comes between them. He gathers the mess up with his long, beautiful fingers and wraps a wet hand around Derek, who comes almost immediately, his body arching away from the wall as he makes a very undignified sound that comes out like a whine.

They pant against each other for a few minutes, Derek’s breath recovering more quickly than Stiles’. Derek’s hands wander, unable to stop touching the sweat-damp skin he’s finally allowed to touch. He pulls Stiles down, and leans up at the same time to snuffle against his neck, smelling the scent of them mixing.

Stiles leans back and Derek aches with the loss of his body heat.

“Hold on just a second,” Stiles says, pressing a hand to Derek’s chest to keep him leaned against the wall. Stiles pulls the t-shirt off and wipes them up before tossing it to the side.

Stiles starts to laugh, his body shaking, his huffed chuckled laughter spilling over Derek like cool summer rain. He falls forward, back into Derek, who presses his face into Stiles’ neck.

The laughter is infectious, and Derek lets himself get carried away with it, feeling a smile stretch his mouth where it’s still pressed against Stiles’ neck. He can feel the laughter, not just hear it, in the way Stiles’ neck vibrates with it.

Derek’s arms circle Stiles, until they’re wrapped up in each other and the laughter. Derek wants to cry it feels so right, so good. This perfect happy moment that exists for no reason except that the two of them are together. Derek’s smile turns to laughter, and he keeps his face tight against Stiles’ skin while a few tears slip free.

Finally, Stiles calms and sits back, naked in Derek’s lap as though it’s no big deal.

“What’s so funny?” Derek asks.

Stiles uses one of his fingers to wipe the tears away from Derek’s cheeks, but doesn’t say a word about them. “You spent all this money on this big fancy hotel room…” Stiles starts to chuckle again. “And we just had sex on the floor against the wall.” His laughter erupts again in that beautiful, almost self conscious way that he laughs; it’s like he doesn’t want to let it out, but the joy forces its way.

Derek relaxes against the wall, his body slumping as he barks one, and then two short laughs out. He doesn’t laugh at length the way that Stiles does, not often. Little bursts of joy. His hands are still wrapped around Stiles, holding him loosely.

Stiles puts his forehead to Derek’s, his breathing calmed, his heart slowing down. “What say we try the bed for the next round, huh?”

Derek kisses him softly, no tongue, just open mouths and a meeting of lips. “I think so,” he says, “and it’s definitely going to last longer.”

Stiles jumps to his feet, suddenly not in Derek’s arms anymore, and it startles him for a moment.

“I’m not going anywhere Der,” Stiles says with a smile, offering his hand.

Derek doesn’t need the help, but takes Stiles’ hand in his own, gripping tight and letting himself get pulled to his feet.

“You’d better be a snuggler,” Stiles says as he pulls Derek toward the bed. “Cause I am definitely a snuggler.”

“For you,” Derek says with a tilt of his head, “I think I could snuggle.”

“Holy shit,” Stiles stops, his face dead serious and turns to Derek.

“What?” Derek asks, wondering what’s wrong and how he’s screwed this up so quickly, while at the same time taking years to do so.

“Derek Hale just said the word snuggle!” Stiles says triumphantly. “I wish I had that shit on video! Oh, maybe later, we can record you saying a bunch of different cute things and I’ll make them all my text alerts.” He’s pulling the covers back, and crawling into the gigantic king size bed. He rolls to the very middle and settles himself in before he looks back at Derek and lifts the covers. “Come on. You said there would be snuggling. Let the snuggling commence.”

“Only if you stop saying the word snuggling,” Derek tries for annoyed, but the smile he can’t wipe off his face gives him away.

“Snuggling, snuggling, snuggling,” Stiles says in rapid succession while flailing under the covers. “Snuggling! Now get your fine ass in this bed with me before I have to come out and get you.”

Derek crawls under the covers. “I’d love to see you try,” he snarks.

They lay facing each other, their hands tangled up together in one giant mess of fingers and thumbs and palms. Stiles is grinning so wide it looks like his face might break. Derek’s face feels broken from smiling. He nuzzles Stiles’ cheek before he pulls back and lays his head on the pillow again.

“Ok, now for the most important relationship question of all time,” Stiles says seriously, though the goofy smile is still in place.

“What’s that?” Derek asks, sliding his legs forward until they brush against Stiles’.

“Big spoon or little spoon?” Stiles asks.

“Would you still respect me if I said little spoon?” Derek asks, more honestly than he intends.

Stiles’ smile turns into something… soft and kind. “I’ll love you no matter what sourwolf,” he says as he untangles their fingers, and pushes on Derek’s shoulder until he turns over.  
Stiles wraps his long gangly arm around Derek, hand resting over his heart, cheek laid against Derek’s cheek.

Derek rubs his cheek back and forth against Stiles’. “I love you too Stiles,” he says, “no matter what.” He pushes his body back into Stiles’ warmth and they drift off together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They wake up. More sex. That's it. That's the whole chapter.
> 
> Oh, there are feelings too. LOTS of feelings.

Derek wakes up slowly, and doesn’t forget for a second where he is or what he’s doing. How could he ever forget? Stiles’ scent surrounds him, Stiles’ arms surround him. It’s not a dream, because in his dreams the scent was never there. It’s real, and he thinks the soaring feeling inside him might be happiness.

He settles back into Stiles’ arms, sleepy breaths tickling the hairs on the back of his neck, while he waits for Stiles to wake up.

Night has fallen, no more bright light through the white curtains of the hotel room. The room is dark; they hadn’t needed lights when they’d first arrived.

Stiles’ heartbeat and breathing change; no longer long and slow and drawn out, they quicken just a little to alert Derek to his wakefulness. Stiles makes a groan that means the end of a good, deep sleep. He pulls Derek tighter to him for a moment before relaxing again.

“You’re still here,” Stiles says softly before kissing the back of Derek’s neck.

The statement hurts Derek and he suddenly feels ashamed that Stiles thinks he would run. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks, trying not to sound too bitter or defensive.

“Come on,” Stiles says happily, still dopey with sleep, “I didn’t mean it that way. I just…” He yawns and stretches. “You did something crazy impulsive, and I wondered if maybe when you woke up and you had come down from whatever brought you to my doorstep, you might have second thoughts.”

“No,” Derek replies softly, “no second thoughts.”

“Good,” Stiles says, closing his arms like a vice again. He presses his lips to the nape of Derek’s neck but doesn’t kiss, just speaks instead. “No regrets. Ever. Ok?”

Derek rolls in his arms, and kisses Stiles. He intends it to be hard and passionate, but it’s soft and romantic instead. Derek’s hand rests on Stiles’ cheek, their lips teasing at each other for a while before tongues slip between.

Derek groans at the feel of Stiles’ tongue. It’s long and lithe like the rest of him, and he wonders what kind of talents he has in that department. The girl in his dorm room didn’t seem to have any complaints.

That thought jerks Derek out of the perfect moment he was in, his jealousy trying to claw its way out of him like a living thing, and he breaks the kiss apart, pushing back a little.

“Ok, nope,” Stiles says, “we _literally_ just said no regrets and you’re acting all regretty right now.” He takes Derek’s face in his hands and moves it so they’re looking at each other.

“Regretful,” Derek corrects, going for funny and falling flat.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks, his self consciousness showing through his concern. He might as well have said: what did I do wrong?

“I was thinking…” Derek chokes on his words. He’s not used to sharing his thoughts with people.

“That was a real good start big guy,” Stiles encourages, “more words. Come on. You can do it.”

Derek glares at Stiles’ faux condescension.

“There you go, we’ve moved on to glaring,” Stiles laughs and wraps his arm around Derek’s middle, pulling him closer. “You can tell me Der,” he says softer as he nuzzles Derek’s jawline.

“I know,” Derek says,” I just…”

“You’re just not used to it?” Stiles guesses correctly.

“Ding ding ding, you win the stuffed… whatever,” Derek attempts another joke, still falling flat.

“If I was going to choose a prize,” Stiles’ mind starts to wander, “I’m thinking, like a big stuffed wolf would be fun. Like, life size so I could cuddle it when you’re not around.” He pauses. “Now, speaking of wolves… wanna tell me what got your hackles up?”

“I was thinking about that girl,” Derek spits out.

“Which girl?” Stiles asks. “We know, like, a ton of girls. Probably at least half a dozen that we’re on really good terms with.”

“The one from your dorm room,” Derek clarifies.

“Oh,” Stiles’ brow crinkles like he can’t understand why that’s a problem. “But I told you, it was like a one time thing and… are you jealous right now? Are you actually jealous of the girl who pretty much told me she never wanted to see me again when my door hit her ass on the way out?” Stiles sits up in bed and looks around. “Hey, everyone! Derek Hale is jealous because of me!”

Derek laughs despite himself and pulls Stiles back down into the bed. He presses his face into Stiles’ neck and breathes deep. It smells like them. Together. The two of them as one, and Derek growls possessively.

Stiles’ hands find their way into Derek’s hair. “It’s ok Der,” he says, and it’s so genuine and open and happy that Derek wants to cry. “I’m all yours now. It’s just us.”

Derek slides his thigh between Stiles’, and moves his kisses from jugular to sharp jawline. “Mine,” he growls, but he smiles. Another kiss to Stiles’ ear. “Mine.” He scrapes his stubble along Stiles’ cheek until their lips meet again. Before he kisses, he growls another: “mine.”

Stiles grips Derek’s hair and pulls him in hard for a kiss, their teeth clicking against each other before he eases off. Derek kisses down the other side, licking and nibbling at skin as he goes from earlobe to throat.

“What made you…” Stiles pants, moving against Derek’s hip, getting hard again. “Made you… so jealous?” He asks, hands still in Derek’s hair.

“Your tongue,” Derek says against collarbone without thinking first.

“My tongue?” Stiles asks.

“You said you had your mouth on someone else,” Derek barrels on ahead, taking a cue from Stiles’ book and not overthinking anything before it comes out of his mouth, “and she sounded really happy about it when I was sitting outside.” He glances up, wondering if he’s gone too far, but Stiles’ eyes are wide with arousal, so Derek continues. “I was thinking about your tongue and the things I want you to do with it. And then I thought about her.” He spits the last word with venom.

Stiles shoves at Derek’s shoulders, pressing with his body to get Derek onto his back. “Ok, my turn,” he says as he kisses at Derek’s throat, licking over his Adam’s apple. “You want to know what I can do with my tongue. I’m gonna show you.” He lets the tip of his tongue trail down until it circles a nipple.

Derek makes a whine, not a happy “that’s so good” whine either. Nipples have never been one of his erogenous zones; it just feels awkward. “Lower,” Derek says, but it comes out as a soft request, not a demand.

Stiles reads the noise and request easily, and immediately moves his mouth lower, tracing the lines of Derek’s pleasure-tensed abs with his tongue. And then Stiles sits up suddenly, smacking his lips and making a face.

“Everything… ok?” Derek asks, pushing up on his elbows.

“Change of plans,” Stiles says, flopping back down next to Derek. “I’m going to go rinse my mouth, and then you’re going to go have a shower. And then I’m going to show you what I can do with my tongue.”

Derek raises his eyebrows in question.

“Dude, the several hours old jizz that’s all dried up on your stomach is mine,” Stiles says, patting Derek’s stomach several times for emphasis. “It’s gross. Like… sour and… it’s gross, ok?” He pushes at Derek’s shoulder. “So off you go. Quick rinse and we’ll get right back to getting you dirty again, ok?”

Derek whines in the back of his throat as Stiles continues to push at him. Something about being apart tears at his insides. The thought of being in separate rooms for even a few minutes makes him worry. Maybe Stiles will change his mind. Maybe Stiles will leave while his back is turned. He whines again.

“Oh don’t be cute,” Stiles says with a grin. “On second thought: yes, keep being cute. Just after the shower.”

Derek rolls his eyes and concedes. He steadies himself by listening to Stiles’ heartbeat, which has calmed down from arousal and is steady. The added bonus of Stiles smelling like happiness makes Derek feel comfortable again, calms his insecurities.

“You’ll still be here when I get out, right?” Derek asks.

Stiles rolls into the warm space Derek had just occupied. “Of course,” he answers honestly, his heart a steady thumping in his chest, “there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be.” Perfect truth, not even a hint of a lie.

Derek crawls up over Stiles quickly and kisses him. It’s desperate with years missed, and kisses lost to time. All the times he could have had this, all the love he could have had. And then Derek tastes it on Stiles’ tongue. It tastes like Stiles, but it’s… sour… almost rotten. He sits back and shifts the taste around in his mouth, crinkling his nose in distaste.

“See!” Stiles laughs. “I told you it was gross.”

Derek leans back down and speaks against Stiles’ lips. “I want to taste it fresh next time.”

Stiles’ heartbeat skyrockets. “We can…” he gulps, his voice hitting a higher octave. “We can totally arrange that. 100% guaranteed.”

Derek hops off the bed and heads for the bathroom. On the way he grabs one of the complimentary water bottles and tosses it at Stiles. With the room so dark he doesn’t trust the human to see it, so he aims for the bed beside Stiles.

Stiles squawks, startled when the bottle lands beside him, but then he picks it up. “Yes! Derek Hale you are amazing and I love you!”

Derek laughs. “I love you too,” he says softly as he hears Stiles crack the bottle open and start sloshing water around in his mouth.

The shower is hot and quick. While he’s under the spray he hears Stiles move around the room a little. He turns on some lights, moves his clothes around, gets back into bed. There’s something comforting about hearing someone move around in the next room. Someone he trusts. Someone he can relax around. There’s no suspicion between them, no wondering about ulterior motives. Stiles is just there, making comforting homey noises that Derek can relax into.

He’s just wiping the last of the old sticky dried-on mess from his stomach when he hears it. And it’s such a familiar sound.

Stiles is moaning.

Derek almost forgets to shut the shower off in his haste to get out. He grabs one of the fluffy towels, wipes himself down quickly and tosses it aside. But he doesn’t rush into the room the way he wants to. Instead he slips quietly out of the bathroom, and stands in the hallway. He only gets far enough into the room to see.

Stiles is writhing on the bed, both hands busy; one hand loosely stroking, the other is rubbing fingers wet with lube down lower and lower.

Derek groans and hits his head softly against the hallway wall. He was getting aroused in the shower with the thoughts of what was waiting for him, but now he’s so hard it hurts. He’s afraid to even touch himself for how excited he is.

Stiles lets out another loud groan. And it sounds just like every time he’s ever listened in on Stiles. Every time he stood outside Stiles’ bedroom when the rest of the house was empty and Stiles felt free to be loud. And now Derek knows that those noises were louder on purpose; louder for him.

And now come the words, because Stiles can never not talk.

“Yes, oh yes,” he whines.

Derek turns the corner to look again, and sees Stiles sliding a finger inside. And it goes so easily.

This is new. Derek never watched before. He only ever listened. But now he can see the beautiful sights that go along with the noises. The way Stiles’ body twists almost like it’s trying to get away from the pleasure and chase it at the same time; his abs going tight, the wiry muscles in his forearm straining to reach down and push up inside at the same time. The way Stiles tosses his head from side to side on the pillow.

“Oh god yes,” Stiles continues, panting, “yeah. Oh yeah. Just like… oh yeah… Like that. Like that. Right there.” He plants his feet on the bed and thrusts his hips into his loose fist.

Derek’s going to go insane. He can feel his mind crumbling apart.

Stiles crooks his finger and groans Derek’s name. And then he opens his eyes and meets Derek’s gaze, hands still moving, body still writhing under his own touch. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t ask Derek to come closer. And Derek understands. This is Stiles telling him that this is ok, has always been ok, that he wanted it, enjoyed it, got off on it.

Derek slides to his knees and crawls to the end of the bed. When he gets there, he slouches down until his eyes are looking just over the mattress, down that long stretch of puffy white duvet, with a perfect view between Stiles’ legs.

Stiles meets his eye again, as though asking permission, before he rolls his head back into the pillows and pressed a second finger inside his own body.

Derek bites at the corner of the mattress as he watches Stiles’ fingers sink easily inside. He slides them slowly at first, adjusting, and then they move faster and faster, curling up every few thrusts, making Stiles’ back arch.

“More,” Derek says, surprising himself.

Stiles’ hands stop moving and he looks down over his own body to where Derek is kneeling at the end of the bed. “You could… help,” he offers.

Derek shakes his head, his tongue feels like cotton in his mouth. “Just let me watch,” he says. “I never got to… watch…” He feels his face turn red as shame curls off of him in waves and he ducks his head.

“Ok,” Stiles says simply.

Derek looks up in surprise, his humiliation melted away by his shock.

“I like it,” Stiles admits as though he’s talking about ice cream and not someone watching him masturbate. “But you don’t get to make demands unless you participate.” He lays back into the pillows, pauses, and meets Derek’s eye again. “First one’s free though.”

“First what?” Derek asks, drawn into Stiles’ banter and clever mouth like he always has been.

“First demand,” Stiles replies as though it’s obvious before he lays back and adds a third finger to the other two that are currently inside him.

Derek bites at the mattress again as Stiles sinks the third finger in much slower than the second. This one takes time, and he can smell the slight discomfort underlying the arousal coming off Stiles in waves.

Derek slowly reaches his hand up along the bed, until he touches Stiles’ foot. He wraps his fingers around in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.

Stiles’ body relaxes immediately, and the smell of discomfort fades.

“Thanks Der,” Stiles says softly.

And then Stiles’ fingers are moving again. Slow at first, but the speed increases as Derek watches with the perfect view. Wet fingers disappear inside Stiles’ body and he groans and spits out sentence after sentence of pleas and swears and different versions of “yes” over and over.

Derek’s entire world narrows down to one single point: the space between Stiles’ thighs where three fingers disappear into his body. 

Derek wants. 

His grip on Stiles’ foot tightens, fingers closing around warm body.

At the pressure, Stiles tilts his head up to look at Derek again. “If you don’t hurry up I’m going to come without you,” he says, “and I really don’t want to do that. I’ve been doing that for too long.”

Derek hesitates, his brain still stuck back in the time when he wasn’t allowed. When he had to hold himself back.

“It’s ok Der,” Stiles says with a smile. “I want you to.”

Derek nods minutely, and crawls up onto the bed, slowly making his way closer.

Stiles lets his fingers slow and stop, but they’re still inside. 

The scent intensifies with every inch of space Derek closes between them. He hadn’t expected the scent to drive him so crazy; after all, he’s been smelling it for years from afar. But up close it’s something else altogether. It’s sweet and musky and deep and salty and he can taste it on his tongue now that he’s close enough. He stops moving and sits back on his heels just between Stiles’ ankles. Derek lets his arms dangle down, his fingers curling around Stiles’ delicate bony limbs.

Derek breathes deep, taking Stiles into his lungs and cherishing him.

And then Stiles’ starts moving his fingers again. The sound, wet and dirty, makes Derek open his eyes and stare down at the sight. And how is it even better close up?

“You know,” Stiles says, unable to ever stop talking, “if this watching thing is a big thing for you. We can do it all the time. But right now, I’m a little desperate for you to touch more than just my ankles. This isn’t 1874, ok?” And then he curls his fingers inside himself and moans load, ending on a high note, his legs twisting and tensing under Derek’s hands.

Derek lets go again and crawls the rest of the way up Stiles’ body.

“You look a little wrecked man,” Stiles says, their faces close. “Are you alright?”

Derek doesn’t see it, but he hears and feels Stiles pull his fingers out. And the smell that follows makes Derek whine and press his face into the side of Stiles’ throat.

Stiles puts a hand to the back of his head, running his fingers softly through the hair there. “It’s ok, Der,” he shushes.

Lust overtakes Derek like a wave and before he even remembers moving his tongue is in Stiles’ mouth and their bodies are flush as Derek ruts against his hip.

“No, no, no,” Stiles says into his mouth.

Derek backs off, panting but not because of the kissing, because he’s losing himself to his excitement in a way he’s never done before.

“No?” Derek asks, his hips want to press forward but he stops.

“We did this already, ok?” Stiles says with a grin. “And I didn’t open myself up for nothing, ok? So come on already.” He reaches down and takes Derek in hand, tugging and moving and slicking him up until he’s in position.

“Are you sure?” Derek asks.

“Holy fuck I’ve been sure since I was sixteen, Derek!” Stiles groans, letting his head fall back into the pillows. “So just-”

Derek doesn’t wait, just slides in. And it’s good. So good. Too good. He stops after an inch or two, unsure if he’ll be able to take the feeling of pushing any further.

And then Stiles pipes up, his mouth running, like always, his beautiful warm voice washing over Derek. “Ok. Let’s go. All the way. Come on. I can take it. Come on big guy. All the way in. Let’s go.”

Derek obeys, pushing slowly forward. Once he’s all the way in he looks down at Stiles’ wide eyes and mouth that’s open but not talking anymore. “Are you ok?” Derek asks.

“I… It’s…” Stiles just nods, unable to speak apparently.

Derek did that. He growls possessively deep in his chest and pulls back his hips. In the middle of the second thrust, he puts his hand to Stiles’ cheek and feels the scrape of stubble and the warmth of arousal and that’s it. Derek’s done. 

“Stiles!” He shouts, before he lets out a cry that turns into a growl and back into a human groan again as he comes. He buries his face in Stiles’ neck again, breathing deep the scent of the one he loves, his mate, and also attempting to hide his embarrassment.

Derek keeps his face tucked against Stiles’ skin, licking at the salty sweat and hoping that the redness he feels in his face will fade.

Stiles’ hands are in his hair, petting and massaging. “Hey Der? Derek? You ok?” Concern comes off Stiles in waves. He’s so gentle and full of caring that Derek wants to cry.

Instead he decides to face it all head on, and presses back up until their eyes meet. “Yeah, I’m… yeah,” Derek says.

Stiles smiles wide, his restless fingers moving from Derek’s hair to trace the lines of his face, then back into his hair again before moving to touch his neck and shoulders.

“Well that was a little…” Stiles pauses for a second as though considering the next word very carefully. “Anticlimactic?” And then he starts to ramble. “Good, though! Like: so good, don’t get me wrong. Just like… not as… long as I expected. I mean… not your junk. Like… time-wise in the length department it was definitely slightly… shorter than the expectation. But that’s what happens when you fantasize about someone for so many years I guess. Your brain fills up with fantasies that are mostly fuelled by porn, right? And I mean, like I said: good. It still feels good… wait…” Stiles wiggles, swirling his hips in circles as best he can where he’s pinned to the mattress. “Are you… still hard right now?”

Derek pulls out a little and thrusts back in. He’s still too sensitive and huffs out a strangled breath. “Oh god,” follows the last of the air from his lungs.

“Holy shit you’re still hard!” Stiles practically whoops. “Yes! Awesome.”

Derek laughs, and it slides his sensitive skin around inside Stiles making him groan again.

“It’s a…” Derek pants. “Wolf thing… pretty much… non-existent… refractory period.”

“Oh fuck this is so much better than my fantasies!” Stiles says, pulling Derek back down for some messy kissing. While their tongues play back and forth between mouths, Stiles starts to move his hips, grinding down onto Derek.

Slowly, Derek starts to move again, little thrusts to start, to make sure his body has come down enough, and then he pulls further out and pushes gently back in until they build a rhythm between them. It’s not rough or passionate or hard. It’s soft and full of love and emotion somehow. It’s something Derek’s never had before. Something he definitely hadn’t expected to eventually come from a relationship with Stiles for some reason. Maybe because of how they started their friendship.

Derek hears Stiles’ heartbeat increase, the struggling of his lungs inside his chest, and he breaks off the kiss. The wolf instinct in him is to bury his face in Stiles’ skin near his hairline where the sweat is gathering and scent his mate. But his human instincts want to watch, so he pushes back to look into Stiles’ eyes while their bodies slide together.

Stiles leans up and presses the most ridiculous little chaste kiss to Derek’s lips before he lays back down and continues to pant with excitement and lack of oxygen from kissing. His hands roam Derek’s body, like he’s finger painting, drawing lines with the tips of his fingers across all the skin he can reach: shoulders, neck, back, face, scalp.

Stiles smiles that perfect, beautiful, silly smile that lights up his face. “You’re mine now,” he says.

And it cuts to the core of Derek. He howls, but not into the sky like his normal instinct would tell him. Instead he curls into Stiles, stilling his movements and pressing his face into Stiles’ neck, letting the howl out into his skin. The moon was always his god before, the focus of his howl, the pull to his wolf. He has a new moon now.

When his voice is raw from the sound he pulls back to look into Stiles’ face and they pick their rhythm right back up where they’d left off without missing a beat, perfectly in sync.

Stiles laughs through gasps and groans. “Hopefully we don’t have any neighbours or we’re going to get noise complaints.”

“I don’t care,” Derek says.

The second orgasm is building so much more slowly, but it’s still there getting ready to bubble over with every pass of sensitive skin inside. Derek tilts his hips a little here and there on each slow thrust, until one pass makes Stiles’ eyes roll up in his head.

“Right there,” Stiles says so quietly Derek wouldn’t have heard if didn’t have supernatural hearing.

“Here?” Derek asks on another pass.

“Yes,” Stiles hisses, so quiet again. “Yeah. Again?”

“All night if you want,” Derek says. He puts his hand to Stiles’ cheek again, and lets his thumb tease at his bottom lip. The huff of breath that passes by, the soft wetness of the skin. It’s almost too much.

“Hey Der?” Stiles’ eyes are barely brown anymore, the honey warmth of his iris’ eaten by the black lust of his pupils.

“Yeah Stiles?” Derek replies, still stroking his thumb across Stiles’ lip, feeling the words fall from his tongue.

“Just a little…” a groan interrupts Stiles’ thought for a moment. “Faster?”

Derek lets his movements increase just a little and then moves his hand away from Stiles’ face and down his body to take him in hand.

Stiles chants little words below human hearing just before he comes: “Right there… there… yeah… there… yes… oh god… Derek…” And then his body tenses completely, a rigid line of muscle from head to toe, mouth wide open, eyes closed, beautiful fingers gripping Derek almost too hard at the back of his neck and his shoulder.

Derek lets go and comes too. And they ride out their orgasms together, Derek’s hips moving erratically, seemingly without his permission, chasing the feeling he never wants to end.

Finally their bodies stop, and they’re just looking at each other. And Stiles’ hands are restless again, chasing drops of sweat and lines of muscle around Derek’s body while Derek looks down at him and marvels at how lucky he is.

“Whacha thinkin’?” Stiles asks finally, the mischievousness back in his voice, tapping a finger along Derek’s forehead to his temple, as though he can read thoughts through his fingertips.

“That I’m yours,” Derek says. “Like you said. And that I love you.” He waits until it’s out of his mouth before he breaks eye contact to lean over and tickle the tip of Stiles’ nose with his own.

“I love you too Derek,” Stiles says, wiggling his nose in return. “I love Derek Hale.” He raises his voice a little for the next one. “I love Derek Hale!” He wraps his arms around Derek’s neck and pulls him down.

“Hopefully we don’t have neighbours,” Derek laughs, sliding his arms between Stiles and the bed and hugging him tightly. “Or we _will_ get a noise complaint.”

“I don’t care,” Stiles laughs, rolling back and forth in Derek’s arms. “I want everyone to know.” He goes still suddenly and looks up at Derek, eyes wide with shock and that look like he’s just had an idea flits across his face. “Wait! Where’s my phone?” He looks to the nightstands, but doesn’t let go of Derek.

“Probably in your pants, why?” Derek’s suspicious, and holds Stiles a little tighter.

“I’m going to call everyone we know and tell them we’re in love!” Stiles says. “It’ll be awesome.” He still doesn’t really try to get away.

“Later,” Derek says. “We’re busy. Just the two of us.”

Stiles’ face goes serious, but not in a bad way; in a way that makes Derek wonder if he’s thinking about the future. “Hey Der?” Stiles asks.

“What Stiles?”

“Now that you’ve come in from outside, you should stay, ok?” There’s vulnerability in the words.

“I was planning on it,” Derek says. He pulls Stiles tighter to him. “It’s nice and warm in here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles is currently NOT underage in this fic.
> 
> However, Derek reflects quite a lot on how he's wanted Stiles since he was underage. And how he listened to Stiles masturbate MANY times while he was underage, but he never did anything about it or acted on it until this fic - in which Stiles is in college and no longer underage.


End file.
